It All Ends Sometimes
by Sithspit
Summary: A member of the Scooby gang is turned, and the Legend of the Dragon Balls is their sole hope...and a Slayer discovers her origins.
1. Death of a Human

**_It All Ends Sometimes… _**

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. I'm just playing with them for fun, no money involved. This story will be multiple chapters, at parts the rating will change, and those will be announced as they do. Over all, it will be at least PG-13 or worse. Enjoy. 

Night. 

Night is the time for lovers, the time for quiet rest. Night is the time for romance and yes, even adventure at times. Cities around the globe choose the night for celebrations, inhibitions cast off as the denizens of the darkness revel in their concealment: Bourbon Street in New Orleans, Carnival in Rio, Times Square in New York…the night is the time for things to happen. Some of those happenings aren't good. 

Normally, these kinds of thoughts would be turning over and over in the mind of the lithe and attractive redheaded hacker as she walked through the Sunnydale streets. Tonight, however, Willow Rosenberg's mind was on a certain brown-haired witch. 

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Earlier… 

Thunder rolled in the distance as lightning played in the heavy clouds. The air in the neighborhood hung heavy and pregnant, expectant of the coming fury of a storm. Breezes blew through the branches, leaves stirring…at random intervals one would decide to leap to its death. Inside the house at 1630 Revello Drive's living room, Willow Rosenberg moved away from the window from which the approaching storm could be viewed. Wrapping her arms around her torso, she began to walk into the kitchen, her stomach announcing itself and its hunger with faint rumbles.

"Time to feed the Willow…" She spoke to herself. As she rounded the stairs, the phone on the table began to ring. Her face screwed up in a puzzled look as she reached for the receiver. "Now who could you be, my ringing friend?" She wondered. She set the receiver to her ear and said, "Summer's residence, Willow speaking."

Her jaw dropped as her eyes widened, her pulse quickening.

_"__Willow__, I hate to bother you, but could you please take a look at my computer? It's really been slow lately."_

Will's surprise nearly made her drop the phone when she heard Tara's voice. "_T-Tara?__ Uh…s-sure, no problem…when?"_

_"N-now, if that's ok?" Tara stuttered out._

_"I'll be right over!" Willow bubbled, hanging up the phone before dashing up the stairs to her room, the thought of eating forgotten. The redhead frantically darted about the room, overturning books and papers, digging for software CDs and her PC toolkit, the things she'd need at Tara's dorm room. Items in hand, she practically ran down the stairs, nearly bowling Dawn over as she reached the bottom._

"Wow, what's the rush, Willow?" The petite brunette asked, moving hastily out of the young woman's way. She absently brushed her long brown hair from her face, eyebrow arched in question. "I haven't seen you rush so fast since the last time Tara…"

Both of Dawn's eyes immediately grew wide. "You're going to Tara's!" She breathed, hand going to her mouth. "Alright, you go Willow! Good luck, chick." She smugly said, winking and nodding at her. "I mean, good luck with that whole relationship thing…I mean, not THAT relationship thing, but…well, you know what I mean!!"

Willow smiled shyly, her blue eyes ducked down, then back up to meet Dawn's own blue orbs. "I know what you mean, Dawnie. Thanks. Tell Buffy I'll be home around whenever!" She smiled and ran out of the front door, this time actually running into the person standing on the threshold.

"Spike!"

Willow brushed her hair out of her eyes, pushing past the bleached blonde vampire to pick up the bag of disks she'd dropped upon impact with his lithe, muscled frame. "Would you please move Spike?" She grated, frustrated at the delay.

"Oh, sure Red. Run into a bloke and blame HIM for being in YOUR way." Spike rolled his eyes and made to go into the house.

Where Dawn's crossed arms and arched eyebrow met him in silent challenge.

"What, Niblet?" Spike muttered defensively. "I din't do anything." He tried to look arrogant and blustery, utterly failing to cow or fool the 15 year old girl.

"Spike, I COULD tell Buffy about how easy you are to get to…" Dawn began ominously, eyes twinkling with a frighteningly evil gleam. Spike shuddered in unease.

"Alright, alright, bloody alright!" Spike bent down to help Willow, handing her disks and tiny screwdrivers. The woman smiled up at him, then winked at Dawn. "Thanks Dawnie. Bye!"

Willow dashed down the steps and down the walk, rounding the corner at the end, briskly walking down the street as she hummed a song, a bounce in her step that hadn't been there for several months.

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The redhead was still humming as she neared the college grounds. She had fond memories of this campus, and some not so fond ones.  After all, college was a time for the Initiative, frat parties that turned into seriously evil hell houses, and the loss of Oz.  On the other hand, it brought her Tara.

Tara…she'd not seen her lover in weeks.  Sighing to herself, her thoughts lost in the past, her feet moved her towards her goal.  Even though Tara's dorm was a place she'd never been to before, she knew its location from having been a student herself. As she neared the building of her former lover, lightning flashed across the sky and the first drops began to fall. She frowned and cursed, realizing she left her umbrella at the house in her haste to leave. Willow ducked under an overhang as the rain began to fall in earnest. Now, for the first time since she left, it finally dawned on her that it was night. Realizing the danger she was in on a dark, rainy college campus while alone at night, she quickly reviewed her options, not liking what she found at all.  If only she could…No.  No magic.  She needed to do for herself, even if that meant doing things the hard way sometimes.  With that thought firmly in mind, she picked a course of action from her options and made to take the first step into the downpour, deciding that making a dash was better than being a stationary target.

As her foot lifted to take her first step, a hand clamped over her mouth and an arm reached around her body, pinning her own arms to her side. Willow's eyes widened as she struggled, realizing that she had to think fast or she would lose any advantage she might have.

"Ooh, I like it when they fight me." The horrible smell that drifted over her shoulder and into her nose caused her terror to increase exponentially…a smell she'd experienced several times before: the smell of blood on the breath of a vampire. Frantically, she stomped down with her heel, grinding the hard wood down the shin bone and coming to a hard stop on the instep of the vamp. It howled in pain and loosened its grip, just enough. Willow broke free and tried to run, her bag dropping, forgotten…and promptly tangled in her feet.

The witch stumbled, her stride broken by her bag's strap as she scrambled for safety. With an audible ripping sound, the strap came loose and she took her first full step to freedom…and felt hands slide down her back, catching in the waistband of her skirt. With a strength borne of sheer terror, she pushed with her feet and felt the hands lose purchase; then tangle in the hem. Thus began a tug of war as the torrential downpour continued to fall, Willow partially turned and trying desperately to pull her skirt from the vamps hands, and the vamp snarling and growling as it attempted to pull her into his grasp, clawed hands tearing and digging into the light material.

Now, for the first time, Willow could see her attacker. The vamp in question was tall, standing easily over six feet and towering over Willow's own five and a half. Her attacker was male, his ridged face and golden eyes set as background to a demonic looking goatee, widow's peak, and a single gold hoop earring. He was a powerfully built vampire, and must have been in his physical prime when turned; he possessed no fat anywhere on his body, which was, interestingly, easy to see in his tight denim jeans and abs baring vest. He was probably handsome in his life, but now he was an image of horror, yellow eyes glowing, face demonically ridged, and those fangs…_Goddess, those fangs are long! She thought._

Willow grabbed the edge of the entryway and used it for leverage to first kick the vamp in the face and then pull away in an attempt to escape.

The vamp, however, had other ideas. As Willow kicked his face, he grabbed her ankle, yanking even harder with the grip he had on her skirt, ripping it from her lower body, and clawing the flesh of her buttocks and ankle where he was squeezing painfully. Willow screamed, finally pulling free, but causing deep claw marks in her ankle and dropping her to the ground. The soaking wet redhead turned over and frantically tried to get to her feet when a tremendous weight fell onto her back, knocking the wind out of her lungs. "_I can't breathe…" Willow thought, fighting for a single, small puff of precious air._

"Aw, what's the matter, little girl? Can't breathe? Don't worry…" The vamp pressed into her back, the buttons on his vest cutting into her skin, the rough denim of his jeans pressed into the curve of her ass. He grabbed her hair and yanked back, whispering savagely into her ear. "...you won't need to breathe when I'm done with you."

Author note: Yeah, I'm a bastard…cliffhanger ending. Don't hate me yet, they'll get worse. After all, I AM a Sith. Chapter Two will be started tomorrow (3/11/02) and will be posted when I'm happy with it. Reviews will get faster posting, yadda yadda yadda….

Author note, Part Deux:  What with the issues at FF.N, I've edited a few things and reloaded this story.


	2. Birth of a Goddess

**_It All Ends Sometimes…_**

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. I'm just playing with them for fun, no money involved. This story will be multiple chapters, at parts the rating will change, and those will be announced as they do. Over all, it will be at least R, and definitely more adult in spots. Enjoy.

**Chapter Two**

Buffy Summers walked through the front door to her home, dejected and fatigued, the victim of yet another shift at the Doublemeat Palace. Hat in hand, she tiredly walked in and headed to the kitchen, tossing her short bobbed hair around, running her hand through the blonde mane and grimacing at the greasy feel.

"Ew, much?" She moaned, a look of pure disgust distorting her fragile features. Walking into the kitchen, she set the bag in her hand down on the counter and called out, "Dawn! I'm home!"

The Slayer opened the refrigerator and pulled the juice carton out, opening it and drinking straight from the container. She swiped the back of her hand across her mouth and grabbed the bag she'd come in with, opening it.

"Dawn? I brought food, yummy food…food fit for…" Buffy looked at the wrapped sandwich she was extracting from the bag. "Well, I brought food! Come and get it! Hey, it's a new item on the men…" Buffy turned as her sister walked in, an uneasy and reluctant expression on her face. The youngest and newest Summers sat on a bar stool and placed her chin in her hands, her hair falling around her face, framing it with a soft brunette curtain.

"Buffy, not to seem ungrateful, but I already ate. Sorry…" Dawn gave a small half smile, the expression on her face apologetic. She hoped frantically that Buffy couldn't tell she was lying, desperately lying. _God, I CAN'T eat another Doublemeat ANYTHING!_

Buffy nodded. "Well, maybe Willow will want it." 

Dawn shook her head. "I doubt it." She smiled, the grin wickedly curving her features. "Willow is over at Tara's dorm, 'working on her computer'."  The teen said, that last said with her fingers making a "quote" motion in the air.

Buffy's eyes went wide, her mouth dropping open, ending in a huge smile. "No way! You think they're on the mend finally?"

Dawn shrugged. "She sure seemed cheerful on the way out. She left about three hours ago, in a HUGE hurry. She was moving so fast, she nearly knocked Spike…" Dawn stopped, the guilty look on her face enhanced by how red she was turning.

Buffy rolled her eyes, heaving an exasperated sigh. "Dawn! Spike was here? Please tell me he left, please…" Dawn looked uncomfortable, eyes looking about the kitchen at the curtains, the fridge…anywhere but at her older sister. "Dawn, he DID leave, right?"

The kitchen door opened, admitting a peroxide blonde man, leather duster rustling softly as he eased into the kitchen. Spike reached behind himself, flicking his nearly spent cigarette out the door. "Actually luv, he didn't." Spike exhaled the smoke out the door before shutting it behind himself. "He just stepped out for a fag."

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The vampire sat back in the shadows, golden eyes hungrily eyeing the female body lying at his feet. His gaze traveled over every inch of its lithe form, noting the length of her legs, the soft swell of her buttocks. The demon licked his lips, tasting the remnants of her blood, relishing the tangy, salty flavor. _I bet she tastes real good other places, too. The creature chuckled at the thought, reaching out with his hands to the cold and stiffening body, running his hands over the corpse's legs, stroking the thighs and squeezing the curves of her backside, still in the ripped panties from his earlier attack. He checked his watch, then settled back to wait. __Yeah, I bet **real good…**_

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Buffy grabbed the arm of the British vampire. "Spike, I'm tired.  I just got home, I'm going to bed…" The corner of Spike's mouth curled up at Buffy's words. "Really, luv? Well…"

"…and you're leaving. Go home Spike." Buffy moved the vampire to the door, opened it, and ushered him out. "Good night Spike."

William the Bloody grinned, opening his mouth to retort with a smart-ass reply as he leaned against the doorframe, reaching out to stroke the Slayer's cheek. Hastily, he drew it back as Buffy slammed the door, nearly smashing his hand in the process. "Fine, be that way, ya git. Don't come crying to the Big Bad when you can't nod off." He sulked. Stepping off of the back porch, he reached into his duster and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one and dropping his lighter into his pocket. Looking back, a disgusted snort escaped from his mouth, smoke curling from his lips and nose. Shaking his head, he stalked off, the night enveloping his form into its warm embrace, the humidity from the earlier storm making the air thick and oppressive.

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Buffy turned back from the door to pin an accusing glare on her younger sister who, inexplicably, had disappeared. "Dawn? Answers? Now?" Buffy moved out of the kitchen and up the stairs. "What were you and Spike doing here all this time?" Halfway up the stairs, the ringing of the phone stopped her. Rolling her eyes to the ceiling with an exasperated groan, the blonde turned and made her way back down to answer the phone. "Hello?"

"B-Buffy? This is Tara. Have you seen Willow?!"

"Tara! Hi! What are you calling me for? I'd've thought you and Will would—"  Buffy stopped speaking, icy spiders crawling up her spine. Noting the note of worry and frantic tone coming through the phone line, Buffy latched onto the last words Tara spoke…_Have you seen Willow. "She still hasn't shown up yet? When did you speak to her last?" Buffy turned and yelled up the stairs, hand covering the mouthpiece.  "Dawn!"_

Buffy could hear the worry in Tara's voice. "It's been at least three hours. I know she can be distracted so I didn't worry at first, but after this long she would've at least called. Buffy, I'm really worried."

"Ok Tara, just stay there in case she shows up. I'll start looking and Dawn will call Xander and Anya to help. Call Xan's cell-phone or beep me if she shows. I'm sure she's ok, Tara." Buffy hung up the phone as her face screwed up into a furious mask. "DAWN!! Damn it; get your ass down here! Willow's missing and I don't have time for your games!" Buffy raced up the stairs to her room, grabbing her weapons chest and rummaging through for stakes, her favorite axe, and other miscellaneous items of death. Dawn careened around the corner, breathing hard.

"What?! I thought she was going to--"

Buffy grimly cut her off. "She never showed up."  Straightening, she turned to her sister and asked.  "When did she leave, Dawn?" The Slayer headed out of her room, moving her sister out of the way and heading down the stairs.

"Um…uh…three or four hours ago? I-I'm not sure--" The teen paused, then brightened. "Oh, wait! Spike might know! He got here right as she was leaving!"

Buffy rolled her eyes and said, "Great. Spike again. Why can't he just disappear?!" She paused at the front door. "Call Xander and Anya. Have them meet me at the campus gates and make sure he has his cell-phone with him." The eldest Summers spun around and took off at a run, her senses at their fullest, making a direct line for the campus of UC Sunnydale.

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_Darkness._

Consciousness slowly roused the creature, awareness slowly clawing its way to the fore. _"Feeeed--what?--__FEED!--So hungry--__So HUNGRY--" She tried to move, but her body wouldn't quite cooperate—she seemed at war with herself, willing herself to move, but being fought every step of the way. "I can't…move--__you're mine—no--__you're ME—NO—__YES—I…I'm…nooo…."_

The battle ended and a finger twitched.

After the finger, the entire hand spasmed, then moved, extending up to full extension, then flexing down to push against the alley sidewalk, straight-arming the body over from its prone position to supine. Her entire body shuddered, twitched, then lay still, eyes blinking in confusion, slowly coming into focus.

The vampire watching this with absorbed interest moved from his seated posture to hands and knees, moving over to the woman, his hands slipping up her thigh, under her shirt and over her belly, finally cupping a pert, full breast.

"Well, I see someone decided to wake up. Welcome to the Undead, Childe." He said, a dry, rasping chuckle echoing from his lungs. He reached for her shirt and began to slice buttons off, his talons whicking them away with careless ease. "You and I…we're going to have so much fun. You see, Childe, as your Sire, you have to obey me." He moved his hand to her bra, slipping a single talon beneath the center strap. "Your first order, sweetmeat, is to make me feel really, really good."

He bent down and began to lick her neck, his raspy tongue slipping across her skin, fetid breath in her face, fangs grazing the too white skin, brushing over the location of the now non-existent killing wound. Her hair smelled of sandalwood and coppery blood, the combination arousing his lust, making the demon in him respond. He felt hands reach up to cup his face and he smiled, fangs showing in the dim light. "Hey, no need to be tender. I didn't plan on being nice to you, bitch."

His golden eyes met those of his new Childe and saw the typical ridged face and golden eyes of a vampire.  The golden eyes rested behind a frame of luscious, thick red hair…which suddenly changed as the eyes suddenly swirled to a deep, socket filling black, leaving the gold as dim specks in the obsidian depths. He inhaled sharply in surprise, then in sudden fear as she whispered back, "Oh good. Tender is SO boring…bitch."

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Buffy slid to a stop at the gates of the UCS campus, eyes roving and calling, "Willow! Willow, can you hear me?" Frantically she hurried about, her senses keenly attuned to the sounds and feel of the night. Cocking her head, she sniffed the air, taking in the fresh, washed scent of the night.  Unfortunately, the earlier downpour of rain virtually killed any other scents, so that sense was virtually useless. Most of the Scoobies weren't aware of it, but her Slayer sense went beyond just her "6th sense" feelings...they also included the normal five. Her sight and hearing were often the most used, but her sense of taste, touch, and smell were all equally acute. Off in the distance, she heard a male voice calling, "Willow! Red, where are you?"

The Slayer let out a breath of tension. _At least something is working out, she thought. "Xander! Anya! Over here!" Buffy headed over to where she had heard her high school friend, alert for any signs of danger on the way. "Xander, any luck?" She asked as the tall, brown haired man strode into view, a thin, dishwater blonde walking beside him, arms wrapped around her torso from the night chill._

 "No, none." He replied, swiping his hand up and through his hair, already tousled from his bed…and judging from the scent coming from them both, they weren't sleeping when Dawn called them. "Dawn said she was going to Tara's. Has she seen or heard from her?"

Buffy shook her head while scanning the dark, shadowy grounds. "No, Tara called us to ask if we knew where she was. She was supposed to have been there hours ago." The slim blonde looked troubled, a pained look flitting across her features. She heaved a great sigh then said. "We need more help. I'm going to get Spike…he was the last to see her. You two keep looking around here."

Xander rolled his eyes. "Oh joy, Evil Dead Boy is going to be so much help, I'm sure…make sure you have plenty of cash on you."

Anya piped up. "Yes, just make sure it's not ours…we need that money. Yes."

Buffy rolled her eyes and moved off towards the cemetery that housed Spike's crypt. "He may be a pain in the ass," she called out. "But he has his uses." Buffy tried to hide her guilty look as she turned to go. _More than you know, she thought._

Author's Note: Ok, Chap 3 starts tomorrow…Living Dead Girl…is she Willow? (duh!) Will the Scoobies find her? Will Buffy boff Spike instead of searching? Will Anya ever NOT pinch a penny? Tune in for Chap 3 to find out…


	3. Goddess Rising

**_It All Ends Sometimes…_**

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. I'm just playing with them for fun, no money involved. This story will be multiple chapters, at parts the rating will change, and those will be announced as they do. Over all, it will be at least PG-13, and definitely R to Adult in spots. Enjoy.

**Chapter Three**

Buffy kicked in the door to Spike's crypt, yelling out for the vampire. "Spike! Spike, come out!" The Slayer began to root around the furnished tomb, checking the bed, which looked slept in even when it wasn't, and the below floor "basement" area. Nothing.

The Slayer slammed her fist into the wall, releasing her breath in a disgusted snort.  "Great. The one undead guy in Sunnydale that suddenly has a life."

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"No…I made you!" He gurgled.

The tall vampire's eyes rolled in his head in terror and confusion. _This isn't how it's supposed to wor— flitted across his mind as his "Childe" forsook all familial bonds and drove fangs into his throat with ferocious intent.  Growling deep in her throat, the vampiress ripped the dead flesh and pierced his carotid, greedily draining his undead blood, still thick with her own life, so recently drained from her body. Hungrily, she drank of him until he was too weak to move, yet still with enough blood to stay rooted in his unlife. She dropped him to the ground and stomped on his foot, crushing bones and tearing supporting ligaments and tendons. Giggling, she sensuously ran her hands over her body, caressing her breasts and her sex.  Smiling with pleasure, she stomped down on the other foot, crushing it as well. The panicked vamp at her feet began to scream, trying to move and get away from his Childe and wondering what went wrong._

"Now now," she cooed. "We can't have people finding you just yet." Willow gestured with her hand and motioned towards the roof of the college alley. The vamps arms twisted behind his back and up, suspending him  there as if tied, lifting him from the ground to hang, suspended. He opened his mouth to scream, and she gestured once more. Space around her rippled and a barely visible bubble surrounded them both, his scream sounding strangely echoed in the mystically confined space. "Now I can hear you scream, and no one else can, _Sire." Willow whispered, the emphasis on the honorific fairly dripping with venom and sarcasm. The redhead began to run her hands over his body, nails sharp as talons, slicing here and there. Finally, she undid his belt, unsnapping the jeans and slowly working the zipper down with her teeth. In his damaged state, all he could do was moan and weakly attempt to resist. Willow worked his jeans down and considered his shriveled penis and testicles. Reaching out she stroked them, gently, caressing them as a lover. She leaned forward and cupped his sac, touching her lips to the head with a soft kiss before easing her fingers together, talons punching through the skin of his scrotum and tearing the flesh. With a snarl, she ripped his manhood from his body with her claws, and then sliced his penis off with a single swipe of an elongated talon. The vampire screamed in pain, body writhing as his Childe viciously removed his masculinity. Willow pointed with her free hand to his face, and his mouth opened wide, impossibly wide, the mandibular joints cracking as the bones separated in his jaw. She reached up and shoved his organs into his mouth, stifling his screams. Stepping back, she critically eyed her handiwork. With a sadistic gleam in her gold speckled black eyes, she licked her lips and stepped forward, maliciously whispering, "Playtime, daddy…"_

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Buffy stormed out of the crypt, not even bothering to slam the door behind herself. Frustrated beyond reason, she kicked out at a tombstone and didn't even blink when the marble shattered. She muttered, "Damn him to some kind of hell! Once, just once, I need him…and where is he? Gone. Vanished. Probably out with nothing better to do than moan and groan about how much he loves me, getting drunk, screwing some demon Goth skank chick--blah blah blah." Cursing, she stalked off into the night, still ranting and completely unaware of the eyes that followed her movement, eyes that gazed speculatively upon her through a thin veil of smoke…

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_Drip….drip…drip…_

Slowly and rhythmically the red fluid leaked, a single drop at a time, puddling on the ground under the broken and suspended body. Hoarse rattles echoed from the lungs and airway of the victim, body slowly healing but impeded by the massive blood loss his Childe inflicted. He didn't need to breathe, but it made moaning so much easier.  Slowly in a circle he spun, now actually tied from the ceiling instead of mystically suspended…his Childe nowhere in sight. The only evidence of his attacker remained his own body and the gory footprints leading away from the bloody prey.

_Drip…drip…__drip…_

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"Willow! Willow!"

The dark haired young man called out again, "Willow!!" Frustrated, he punched a wall. In pain, he began to curse.  "Ow, SHIT that hurt. An', we've been looking for hours…she has to be here somewhere."  Xander Harris turned to his fiancée and cradled his hand.  "And she's obviously not in my broken hand…ow…"

The blonde next to him groused, "Xander! Don't do that! If you break your hand we'll have to take you to the Emergency Room and that costs money! Money we don't have while planning for a wedding, I might add…" Anya glanced around the commons area. "Besides, after this long, she's either shown up at Tara's and they're making with the wild lesbian smoochies or something grabb—"

Xander rounded on Anya, his face a mask of incredulous rage. "Don't. SAY. That. Again." He snarled, jabbing her in the chest. "She's ok and nothing's grabbed her. She's ok…she's ok, I just know it." The dark haired youth inhaled deeply and turned away, placing his hand on his mouth before tiredly rubbing his eyes. "I'm just worried. She's been my best friend since we were kids. She's always been there, and now—" He looked mournful. "And now she's missing." He looked up at his fiancée, saw her hurt expression. "Oh, An', you know I love you…I'm sorry I poked you." He gathered the slim woman into his arms and pulled her into a tight hug. "You're my life, my all, my—" He broke off and choked out, his face pale and slack. "My God."

Puzzled but smiling, she pulled back.  "Xander, how sweet!  No one has wanted to worship me since—"  Seeing the look on his face, Anya quit talking and spun from his arms to look over her shoulder at what ever it was he saw. "Xander, wha—" Her eyes got big as she saw what he saw swinging in the shadows. "Ew. Is that—"

He moved to see, inching into the shadows to get a better look at the swinging body, his heart in his throat. "No, it's a guy, or what's left of one…OH SHIT!" Xander howled, pulling back in shock. "It's a vampire!"

The former vengeance demon moved forward to peer into the shadows, taking in the half-closed golden eyes, the ridged face with clinical and professional interest. "Yep. Vampire. Or, like you said, what's left of one."  She arched an eyebrow and nodded approvingly as she surveyed the demon.  "Nice work."

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Willow strolled along the walkway, her demon mind spinning with the possibilities of the unlife before her. The redheaded vampire/witch's torn skirt from earlier had been further torn and shortened to resemble a mini-skirt, coming to an inch or two below her buttocks. The ripped panties no longer rode her hips, long removed and discarded along with her bra.  Her shirt, torn and without buttons, now rode untucked and tied at her waist, pulled tight over her breasts, her nipples taut and erect through the thin fabric.  As she strolled in the night air, she considered her options. "Buffy…she'll be a problem. Xander and Anya? Oooooh, Anya…I can't wait to kill that bitch. Hmmm…Dawnie? She'll be SO sweet to eat, yum…" She paused in her wandering, realizing with a wicked grin that she had found her way to the dorm where her former lover resided.

"_Tara__…" She sighed, her nipples further hardening at her lover's name, her already aroused sex getting warmer. "Oh, I don't have time for you tonight, dearest. I want to take so long with you, play with you…mmmm, but just wait." She grinned. "Your time is coming, my pet. Momma is coming for you, oh yes." Checking her watch she frowned, realizing sunrise was only two hours away. She looked up and blew a kiss to the window, the light still on, a shadow pacing back and forth behind it. "I'll be back." Her face vamped out, fangs elongating to their full length. "I'll be back and you'll be screaming my name, sweetheart."_

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Xander and Anya gaped at the vamp incredulously, their eyes never leaving the swinging living corpse that hung suspended by what appeared to be a bloody rope. It was only when they shone the flashlight on the body that they realized the "rope" was actually a length of its own intestines, the organ shining in the light, his abdomen a gaping, oozing wound…and empty. The bones of the vamps ribcage glistened whitely in the light, cracked open and showing his heart…still, unmoving…undead. The tortured demon slowly spun via his guts, his bare back showing multiple slow healing wounds, the bones of his spine obviously crushed and shattered, shards peeking from beneath the skin, the spinal column stretched impossibly long due to the broken bones.

The two lovers stood mesmerized, unable to tear their eyes away from the most complete and devastating vampire torture victim they'd witnessed to date. Each of his legs exhibited breaks in multiple locations, proven by the arc they bent perfectly in, each up to his side, tied above his head by his torn jeans, arcing in a crescent. The foot bones appeared equally smashed due to the flat but bumpy appearance of the feet, similar to the hands, the fingers on them actually tied into impossible knots. The horrible wound in his groin made Xander wince, wondering what happened to the organs. Upon closer inspection they discovered the penis hanging from his anus, the testicles still in his mouth, and his tongue hanging from an open wound in his throat, the proverbial Colombian Necktie. In addition to every bone being broken in his body, his skin exhibited deep and shallow slashes over all of the most sensitive areas: Buttocks, groin, armpits and beneath, face and chest.

As they watched, the vamp's eyes opened and he fixed them with a baleful glare. His mouth worked, but no sound came out, largely due to the fact his ribcage yawned open and there appeared to be no lungs to exhale the air necessary for speech.  Xander was trying to read the vamp's lips when a hand fell on his shoulder, causing him and then Anya to jump and scream.

"Guys, any luc—Oh Jesus Christ!" Buffy began, stopping in shock as she caught sight of the hanging dead meat. "What happened to THIS guy?!" She approached the vamp then stepped back in astonishment as she realized it was moving. "Who did this, guys? Did you see anything?"

Anya gestured and offered, "No, we found him like this. He's trying to say something but we can't make it out…and speech isn't very easy for him, apparently." She peered closer. "Nice job, whoever did it."

Buffy's face crinkled in distaste at Anya's comment. It was then she noticed the vamp's lips moving. Looking closely, she tried to make sense of the words he was mouthing. "_Slayer…stake…me…"_

Buffy's eyes narrowed in thought and her head tilted slightly, then to the other side as she considered what the vamp was saying. "Stake you? First, who did this? Then I stake you."

The vampire made a motion as if to laugh, then began to gag, spasms wracking its tortured body. "_Childe…"_

The Slayer's eyes widened in disbelief at his statement. "Wait a second. A vamp you made did this to you? Doesn't that break some kind of rule or something?" She queried.

He opened his mouth, fangs growing out as he fought the delirium brought on by his pain. "_Stake…PLEASE…"_

Buffy grimaced and angrily pulled the stake back and drove it home into the exposed heart of the vampire, the body immediately turning to dust, the expression on that of the vampire one of profound relief. Speculatively, Buffy stared down at the ash and dust he had become then spoke, eyes never leaving the drifting remnants. "Did you find anything?"

Xander blinked and shook his head as if returning from a trance. "Nothing but living dead boy there. Did you?"

Buffy began to relate her findings as Anya began to poke around the area where they were standing. "Um, guys?" She called over to her friends. "Come here and take a look at this." She held up a purse and a carry bag that contained some tools and software disks. "Isn't this Willow's stuff?" She asked.

Buffy took the bag and examined it, noting the ripped and broken carry strap. Pulling her hand away it came back sticky and red, blood smeared across her fingers and palm. "Oh this is so not good. Let's go see Tara; we're not that far from her dorm. Maybe Will's shown up there." She said. *_God, I hope so, please let her be ok…*_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The clock on the nightstand said the time was 4 AM, but Tara Maclay paced her floor, her fingers twisting and working at the handkerchief she held. It had been eight long hours since she had called Willow to come and look at her computer, the only pitiful excuse she could think of to get her partner to come over inconspicuously. Willow had been doing so well in coping with her addiction to power, which is how Tara saw it, not an addiction to magic, that she found her feelings for the red haired witch slowly coming back around to the peaceful comfort she usually had for her. And now those feelings might have killed her.

She was still pacing some 15 minutes later when the phone rang and she heard Xander's voice. "Xander? Please tell me you've found her and she's ok!" She cried, her heart breaking for the infinite time that night. "Have you found anything?"

Xander's tinny voice on the other end, obviously on a cell phone, was cautious sounding, which didn't reassure Tara at all. "Ah, no, we didn't find _her…um…we're downstairs and we'll come up to your room, k?" He rushed then hung up, giving her no time to answer or further question him. Growling in frustration, she went to her door, unlocking and opening it. Standing in the open door, she listened for their voices coming up the stairs, expecting to hear something from them, but wasn't reassured when they appeared at the top, faces solemn, haggard with fatigue and loss of sleep, and, most of all, concern._

Fear gripped Tara's heart with icy fingers as Buffy walked forward, her usually perky face long and sad, eyes red and seemingly about to burst into tears. "What Buffy?" She demanded. Buffy said nothing, her arms angled behind her, partially hidden at the back.  Tara could see something hanging from her hand. "Buffy, what? What aren't you telling me?!" She grabbed the Slayer's arms and shook her, Buffy's hand coming around to the fore, holding Willow's bags. She said not a word.

Tara grabbed the bags and immediately noted the sticky cloth, the red coagulated blood staining her fingers. She looked up to Buffy and saw her eyes brimming with tears. "Tara, we don't know anything…it might be someone else's blood and she just might be hiding out or at the hospital or knocked out somewhere or…"

Tara made a gesture in the air with her free hand, her lips moving tonelessly, smearing some of the blood onto her forehead, cheeks and chin. Motioning again with her fingers, she muttered _"Acclaro." Buffy, Xander and Anya both gasped as Tara's features gave way and morphed into that of Willow Rosenberg. She put her head down, and when she pulled it back up, her features had returned to normal. "It was her face, wasn't it." The words came out as a statement, not as a question._

Xander and Buffy spoke at the same instant, tripping over their words. Buffy silenced her voice and allowed Xander to speak. "Tara, we don't know what's happened. Ok, so that's her blood. It doesn't mean she's…it doesn't mean that she's NOT ok." He ran his fingers through his hair and continued. "There's more though…Buffy?" He paused, looking to the Slayer for further elaboration.

Buffy sighed and continued. "Tara, close to where we found the bag we found a vampire. Rather, we found what was left of him. He'd been tortured, disemboweled, castrated, and hung for us or someone to find. He indicated his own Childe did him like that…it was pretty bad." She sniffled and wiped her eyes. "It still doesn't mean she's dead. We'll find her Tara. One way or another, we'll find her."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The early hours before dawn are the quietest in Sunnydale. All of the living are sleeping, all of the dead are about to sleep, and the demons fall somewhere in between.

The quaint little store called the Magic Box was often visited by beings that filled all three categories, looking for knowledge, power, love, revenge…sometimes all of the above. This morning though, one lone figure came up the sewer entrance and entered the basement, a canvas bag in hand. The lithe figure danced through the aisles, lightly touching objects, gently caressing tomes, the caress of a long absent lover. The demon formerly known as Willow Rosenberg cavorted through the stacks, bag in hand, humming a merry tune as she picked items up and deposited them into it, as if shopping to beat a rush. As the bag started to fill, she began to merrily sing.

"_*Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday…*"_

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Author's Note: No, I didn't lie, there is a DBZ crossover, and it may make it's first appearance in the next chapter, or the one after at the very least…as a friend of mine called it, it's just a plot element crossover, so don't expect any DBZ characters and Goku will not take out Willow or anything….and a review or two wouldn't hurt…not one for that last chapter.


	4. Not Quite Aphrodite

**_It All Ends Sometimes..._**

Disclaimer: Buffy and all associated characters are the property blah blah blah of Mutant Enemy and Joss Whedon and a bunch of people I've never heard of...in a nutshell, they aren't mine, and I'm just playing with them. And, might I add, I'm not making a red cent off of this...I'm writing this for fun and for others to read for free entertainment. And if I make a mistake with anything Wicca, no offense is intended...my materials for research aren't the greatest so I'm making some of it up as I go, same as Joss does...

_ "...in other news, thirteen more bodies were found last night, and for the first time in nearly a week, no one has been reported missing..."_

Buffy Summers stared at the television, the hand holding the remote falling bonelessly to the sofa; a dull, muted thud the only sound it made. The drone of the announcer became deafening in her ears, her mind running amok with the news reports, her heart aching in her chest. A single crystalline tear spilled over the rim of her eye and raced madly down her creamy cheek, barely pausing before leaping from her face to drop wetly onto her knee. 

_ "...police are asking people to stay in their homes after dark until the perpetrators of these crimes are captured..."_

For the first time in five days, the Slayer began to weep.

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Dawn Summers watched from the shadows at the top of the stairs, tears streaming down her own flushed cheeks. Finally seeing her sister crumble like she did drove the final nail into the mental coffin she'd placed Willow's memory in. If the Slayer was admitting defeat, then the battle was lost. For the last five days Buffy patrolled the streets and graveyards, searched the sewers, and canvassed the haunts of Sunnydale's night breed. In this case, no news was the worst news. No body produced, no story came forth, and the creatures of the night were scared shitless. Even though she hadn't said anything to her directly, Dawn had heard Buffy talking to Xander and Anya, relating how even Willy had been unable to tell her anything. However, in Willy's case, it wasn't for lack of trying. Every time he'd opened his mouth to answer Buffy's questions his eyes rolled in his head and blood started to pour from his nose. Obviously, someone didn't want him talking to the Slayer about Willow's disappearance.

Then it got worse.

The first night after Willow disappeared three people disappeared from Sunnydale. Not unusual in and of itself, but it had been a while since so many had disappeared at once. The next night however was more ominous. Three more people disappeared, and the SPD found four bodies. Buffy's sources indicated all four experienced exsanguination...completely drained of blood. The third night was a slaughter. Seven bodies found; drained, and yet three more people vanished into thin air. Buffy suspected that they were being turned and then feeding on the victims that were found, but her endless patrolling had turned up nothing. The fourth night the police began doubling their patrols...ten dead, and again, three missing. Even more unusual, all of the missing victims were female, and all had ties to the occult or were openly practicing Wiccans.

Now tonight, finally, the pattern broke with the largest massacre since the killing started. Thirteen lives snuffed out, but strangely no one vanished. _"Why stop at just taking twelve...."_ She wondered, her nose running from all the crying. She heard soft footsteps behind her and she turned, smiling up at the honey-blonde haired woman that dropped to kneel beside her. Tara Maclay looked like hell. Her eyes were puffy, swollen from nearly incessant crying, her voice hoarse from screaming in fury and pain at the Fates for her missing lover. Tara briefly met Dawn's eyes before looking away. "It's Willow." She intoned, her voice dull and lifeless. She looked into Dawn's eyes, the pain pouring from her in waves. "She's behind all of that." She turned her head to look downstairs at Buffy, who was still on the sofa, still sobbing silently into her arms.

Dawn reached for Tara and hugged her, pulling Tara closer to lay her head on Dawn's shoulder; Dawn's chin rested on the older woman's head. Dawn stroked her hair, running down the lengthy tresses and down her back, giving comfort. "You said it's Willow...how do you know?"

Tara wiped her nose and eyes, sniffling. "The numbers." She replied. Tara pulled back, brushing her hair back behind her ear to see Dawn better. "Well, the numbers and the types of people that are missing." She sniffed again, her eyes moving about the upstairs area, sweeping the hall and ceiling as though looking for a different answer. "All of the missing people have been females, all either involved in the occult or Wicca." She paused, taking a breath and then letting it out noisily. "Also, they disappeared in threes, with the number of dead increasing each night by three." Tara stopped, looking down the stairs where she could see Buffy standing, wiping her eyes and turning to come up the stairs. "So, I think it's her. If she were ok, we'd have heard from her by now." She gestured helplessly in the air. "But with all this happening? No, I think it's her and she's been...been--" She began to cry again, softly.

Behind them, Buffy came up the stairs, her feet leaden and movements slow, weighted with the burden of loss and grief. She plopped down next to her sister and Tara, giving them both a wan and totally fake smile. "Tara--" She hesitated. "What do you think she's up to? How do we stop her?"

Tara composed herself and thought about the Slayers questions. "I think I might have a clue what she's doing. Remember when the Vamp Willow came here as a result of Cordelia's wish?" She asked. Buffy nodded, a quizzical look on her delicate features as she gestured for Tara to continue. "Well, she and I talked about that afterwards. 'What would a vamp do if it was also a powerful witch?'" She mused. "We did research into spells that would benefit a vampiric witch, or require a witch to also be a vampire...and there was a lot more there than we liked." She shuddered. "The stories were almost as bad as if a Slayer were turned."

Buffy's face turned grim, a slight hardening beginning in her face. "Go on."

 "Well, there was this witch in the Middle Ages...Constance, I think her name was, Constance Barrow. Anyway, according to legend, she was turned and then immediately killed her own Sire." She took a breath, thinking. "She wreaked havoc throughout London and Europe, raising a body count nearly as high as Angelus and his brood. No one was safe: Not vampire, not human, not demon...no one. She killed anything." Tara shuddered. "She especially hated males, so she often reserved the worst deaths for them. That vampire you found sounded like something she would've done." If possible, she suddenly looked sadder. "I also tend to think that that points to Willow." She looked at Buffy. "She read that history too."

The eldest Summers rested a hand on Tara's arm, her face softening with compassion. "Tara, if it is Willow doing these killings, you know we have to stop her, no matter what."

Tara's head raised sharply, her eyes boring into Buffy's. "Stop her? You mean kill her! Run a wooden stake through her heart; your...your...Mr. Pointy! She's your friend!"

Buffy's face twisted with her pain. "Tara, she's dead! And besides...don't you think I know this? My God...she was my first friend here! Why do you think this tears me up so much?! If it has to happen, who do you think is going to have to do it?? ME! **_I_** will have to stake my best friend!" She pulled away and stood, turning her back on her sister and Tara, arms crossed over her chest in a protective hug, shutting out the world and its pain.

Tara continued her tirade. "Oh, so it was ok to give Angel a soul again, but Willow...Willow you'll just slam a stake into her without even trying to save her! Buffy, how could you??"

Buffy rolled her head in exasperation. "Tara, that was different. We had an Orb of Thessulah and a witch that knew how to use it. You've said yourself before that you couldn't have done it. I don't see any other option, and we can't let her keep killing or whatever else it is she has planned. We don't have another way."

From behind her, she heard a determined, fierce reply.

 "No. There IS another way."

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In southern California, warm air is a way of life. As a result, being warm is just how things are if you live there. Of course, if you're a vampire, "warm" and "living" are two words that don't typically exist in your lexicon, unless it's referring to your food.

William the Bloody, now known simply as "Spike", walked along the beach on the shore of the Pacific Ocean, his duster pulled about him to ward off the chilly wind that blew in from the sea, contemplating a similar thought, thinking about blood. A tall creature, for that is what he was, a vampire, Spike possessed a lean, lanky frame, all bone, sinew and muscle. Not an ounce of fat resided on his body. Per his typical dress code, he was clad this night in a snug fitting black t-shirt, tight black jeans, and a red overshirt, covered over all with his ever-present leather duster. However, something was atypical about this night; Spike was feeling introspective. Earlier, the British vampire watched for the sun to go down from concealment, noting the disappearing heat and light from behind the wall in the sewer leading to the ocean, stepping out as soon as he was capable. This night, the same as every other, he missed the last rays of the setting sun, reminded again that it was forever out of his reach. A single tear rolled down his cheek.

 "My heart is cold without you; my life only death, unliving.

Your warmth is all I live for; your touch consumes me, undying.

I am denied you forever; you are above me, unreachable, uncaring.

My love…my light…my sun..."

Spike shook his head then sucked a swig from his flask, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Casting a glance upwards at the last vestige of blood red in the sky, the Master vampire muttered, "Bollocks". Spike picked up his party favor then turned and headed up the beach.

Now, an hour later, he was approaching his destination, his earlier thoughts gone and his current thoughts on one thing and one thing alone…getting good and pissed. Every month, on the full moon, the regular denizens of Willy's and many others of Sunnydale's night breed would get together at the beach to have a party under the pier. What made this party unusual was the number of humans in attendance. Goths, metal heads, vampire worshippers, mage and witch wannabes…they all came out and mingled with bikers, demons, and sometimes demon bikers, in a wild, raucous, bitching rave of a good time. The Sunnydale PD acted as if nothing unusual was happening, per their norm, and the party goers kept the bloodshed to a minimum…the vampires usually taking their victims elsewhere to protect the integrity of the party and to keep the authorities out of the picture.

To Spike's great relief, the party goers seemed willing to overlook his past cooperation with the Slayer as long as a party interruption didn't occur; in fact, this was his sixth time attending the bash. Of course, it helped tremendously that he usually brought a keg with him.

******************************************************************************************

She purred.

Nina wasn't new to the pleasure of being with another woman, but this fiery redhead that was doing such amazing things to her body was in another class, a class only she had the right to belong to, excluding all others.

She belonged in the class of "Sex Goddess Incarnate".

The goddess in question at that moment trailed her tongue down the side of Nina's neck, the tip burning a liquid trail across her skin. Her skilled fingers danced softly and deftly on the dance floor of her body, waltzing about her breasts, gliding across her belly, and dirty dancing OH so well across her quickly heating sex.

Willow pulled Nina across her lap, her back cradled against her arm, the left still dancing lustfully between Nina's thighs. Softly, she stroked Nina's swollen lips through the damp cloth of her white cotton panties, her touch causing whimpers and moans to escape her throat. Willow nibbled at the brunette's neck, her teeth lengthening into fangs to graze lightly on her skin, her face morphing into that of her vampire self before melting again into her human guise, zeroing in on her earlobe, sucking it and worrying it between her teeth.

Nina heard her partner whisper, "Let's go somewhere more private, hm?"

"Ok!" She replied, practically panting with desire for this incredible woman. She took the offered hand and followed the redhead off of the couch and out from under the pier, into the dunes off the beach, practically knocking aside the blonde guy carrying the keg.

"Bugger all! Watch where ya going, ya loony bints!" Spike called after them before setting the keg down on the alcohol board.

The "bar" tender grinned. "Hey, Spike! Always good to see more beer! Oh yeah, yer alright too I guess." The blue Quartos demon behind the "bar" grunted from both mouths, handing mugs and drinks out to revelers with two hands, and wiping down the bar table with the other two. "Just in time, too. We're running low on suds."

Spike made the motion of tipping an imaginary hat to the demon and filled a mug for himself before turning and eyeing the full swing party behind him. "Not anymore, Qwerty…not anymore."

***************************************************************************************

Buffy turned to look at Tara. "What do you mean 'There's another way'?"

Tara met the Slayer's eyes, her own determined gaze held there, not giving in to the sudden overwhelming desire to turn away. "I-I mean, there's another way. A-a way we can get Willow back, a way we can return everything back to the way it was before."

Buffy rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Tara, get real! Don't you get it?? Even if we did get Willow back, there's no way everything can be 'like it was before'!" She thrust her arms down at her side in frustration. "Willow is DEAD, Tara! All the people she and her bunch have killed are DEAD!"

Tara stood and met Buffy's fierce gaze with her own, nearly toe-to-toe, her face mere inches from the Slayer's. "And I'm telling you, it CAN be like it was before." She shouted, her frustration and rage pouring out in a torrent of emotion at Buffy. "There's a way…a way where even if she kills a thousand people it can be like it was before...it can be _undone_..." She whirled around and strode into her room for a moment, then came back out holding a golden yellow orb in her hand, roughly the size of a grapefruit, with two small red glowing lights, flickering like stars, seemingly floating in the center.

Buffy eyed the orb speculatively. "What in the hell is that, Tara?" She intoned, her face scrunched with skepticism. She reached out for the orb, lifting her eyes to meet Tara's for permission, making sure it was _SAFE_ to touch the thing. Tara handed it over and Buffy was surprised to find that it was much heavier than it looked, something close to several pounds. As near as she could tell the ball was solid and not fluid filled, yet the two stars twirled and floated in the center as though a thick liquid filled its center. She made to hand it back to Tara and inadvertently dropped it. Her eyes widened in horror as it ricocheted off of her foot and began to roll down the stairs, bouncing down the steps towards the front door. At the bottom of the stairs it hit the hard tile floor, and bounced with a glassy sound once, then again, before rolling to a stop in the living room. Buffy stared in wide-eyed horror at Tara, her hand going to her mouth. Her face screwed up in confusion as Tara, who didn't look the least bit concerned, walked down the stairs to retrieve the fallen orb.

"It's OK Buffy." She called up the stairs. "As near as I can tell, this thing isn't capable of being destroyed by anything a mortal can throw at it. My dad found this one on a construction job he was on. He bent the shaft of his jackhammer on it." She picked up the ball and carried it back up the stairs. "As you can see, there's not even a scratch."

Buffy took the ball back, awed, turning it over in her hands, marveling at the lack of damage. "OK, it's tough. What does it do, though?"

Tara smiled. "It grants wishes."

Buffy's eyes widened.

****************************************************************************************

Nina was on fire.

The redhead from the party had long ago stripped herself and Nina, their clothes making a soft pallet on the shifting sands. In fact, most of her clothes were off before they were even fully hidden among the dunes off of the beach. Nina kneeled above her lover, one of her full breasts cupped in her right hand, the nipple pinched and rolled between her fingers. The other hand was running through the hair of the fiery redhead that was busily making love to her with her skilled lips, fingers and tongue. The young woman moaned as the sensations running from her tingling and dripping sex raced to her toes, curling them as she writhed above the head of her lover, her heels and toes stroking Willow's flanks and buttocks. Her breathing became more and more labored as the seconds stretched to minutes, the minutes lengthened into eternity; time seemed to stretch and stand still for the gray-eyed Latina. Her red tongue snaked out to lick her lips; the sweet and salty taste of the redhead's cum still coating them, the tangy flavor making her taste buds tingle and ache for more. She tasted heavenly!

Earlier, the roles had been reversed, with Nina on her back and the redhead kneeling over her, moving her sex in a primal rhythm with Nina's exploring lips and tongue, her nimble hands and fingers stroking and cupping Willow's firm rear. She vividly remembered the wildly erotic woman's passionate moans as her tongue glided across her swollen, slick lips, the petals of her womanhood opening invitingly with her arousal, exposing the inner walls of her most secret place. There was one oddly disturbing point when she could have sworn that Willow, as she'd announced her name to be, had very long teeth, but when she smiled down at the darker woman tonguing her wetness, Nina quickly lost that thought to lose herself in her lovers dark eyes. Now, it was Nina's turn to look down and meet Willow's burning, hungry gaze.

_"Hungry…that's __how she looks," Nina thought as Willow turned her head to lick her thighs, her tongue tracing along Nina's pulsing femoral artery. The redhead began to slowly, tantalizingly, circle her partners' clit with her agile fingers, nipping at her thigh and the sides of her sex with her mouth and teeth. Suddenly, she began to suck, hard, pulling at Nina's thigh with her mouth until the sharpness of the pain mingled with Nina's overwhelming need to cum from Willows fingers stroking her soaked slit. With a final keening wail, Nina's body climbed the final peak and rushed headlong over into a shuddering, moaning release, her hands wrapped tightly in Willow's hair. Her orgasm completely overcame her senses; she never noticed the sharper sting of fangs entering her thigh, piercing her femoral artery, and draining her life's blood from the huge vessel. In fact, as the last tremors of her orgasm left her shaking body, her mind barely registered her own body falling backwards. Willow moved from underneath her, drawing a razor sharp nail across her breast above the areola, then placing the blood covered body part into Nina's mouth, the blood trickling down and across the puckered, erect nipple to run across Nina's tongue. Willow's eyes rolled into her head as she purred, her vampiric visage sliding into place as she looked down at her new Childe. "How do you like Mother's Milk, darling?" She smiled as the young, dying woman nursed at her bleeding breast. "Welcome to the family, love. We're going to have SO much fun…"_

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Spike was bored. He had plenty of beer to drink, even if it was that weak American brand stuff, but that only carried a bloke so far, right? '_What I need is a bird to shag' He thought, eyes casting about for a likely candidate. He set his empty mug down on the plywood bar table, tipping a flip salute to Qwerty before wandering about the party, checking out the singles, couples, and groups that had begun to mingle for their evening's pleasure. Most of the eligible single women he saw were either too young, too non-humanoid, or too skanky even by his standards. He sighed, about to give up, when he noticed some new faces in the "Blessed Wanna-Be" group under the pier. Most of the group that met during this party wasn't interested in men, but possibly some of the new faces were. Trying to appear nonchalant, Spike wandered over and leaned against a piling, observing the conversation, meditation or low chanting that was going on._

That's when he noticed.

It became readily apparent to him that what was once a predominately human group now largely consisted of vampires. Sure, there was a human or three among them, but the overwhelming majority was distinctly vampire. Spike was puzzling over this when a feminine arm snaked around his left shoulder and a very luscious female body pressed itself against his back. The arm that went around his shoulder caressed his lips, brushing just under his nose…and that's when the smells hit him. He could distinctly smell the scent of a woman's sex and blood on the too cold fingers…a vampire's fingers. He started to speak when he felt the mystery woman's other hand reach around and settle on his stirring groin, sensuously stroking him through his jeans. He tried to turn, but the two arms suddenly gripped him tightly, preventing him from doing so. He smiled, thinking to himself, '_Lovely…she likes to play games…' Before he could speak however, he felt cold wind against his ear, and smelled the breath of a recently fed vampire. Of course, they didn't need to breathe, but many did out of habit, or when they were being seductive…like the undead behind him apparently was. _

Chilly lips nibbled his ear, sharp fangs nipped at his earlobe. Spike stirred, but allowed the other vampire to play for a moment. He flippantly asked, "Is this a solo affair or can two play, luv?"

Arousal turned to shock as the female behind him turned him around, manhandling him as though he were a fledgling and pinning him to the big wooden pillar. His shock deepened to stunned disbelief as he saw Willow Rosenberg, mouth still stained with Nina's blood, leering at him with a smug grin. She reached down and fondled his crotch again, noting with sadistic glee that whatever had been blooming there had suddenly decided to hibernate instead. "Gee, Spikey…you seemed happy to see me a minute ago. Need Viagra after all?"

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Author's Note: Ok, I did say I wrote sporadically. That, coupled with a new job, meant SO little time to write. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, so please review…having comments is encouraging to writing more.


	5. Goddess Ascendant

**_It All Ends Sometimes...Part 5_**

Disclaimer: Buffy and all associated characters are the property blah blah blah of Mutant Enemy and Joss Whedon and a bunch of people I've never heard of...in a nutshell, they aren't mine; I'm just playing with them. And, might I add, I'm not making a red cent off of this...I'm writing this for fun and for others to read for free entertainment. And if I make a mistake with anything Wicca, no offense is intended...just blame http://www.mysticalmother.com. I got most of my information on the items from their website. The ritual is all mine. Lyrics included in this piece from Disturbed, Godsmack, and Sarah McLachlan. Used without permission.

It was a good cigarette.

Rolled and cut by the mechanical device at the factory, it found itself placed into a package with nineteen others just like it. Sealed away, it traveled the country until it ended up in Sunnydale, California. Quietly, it sat on the shelf in anticipation of the day it would re-emerge into the light. That day was today.

Moments earlier, a hand extracted it from its pack and placed it between the lips of some bloke that nominally mistreated the other cigs in the pack. Most of them were bent by the time he removed them, if not outright crushed. But, it was lit and drawn on like a cigarette should be.

One problem presented itself though. No sooner had he been placed between the lips of the blond man, he'd been unceremoniously dropped to the ground, forgotten and gone for good. He really was a good cigarette.

Was.

Spike the Bloody stood open mouthed, his dropped cigarette cleanly forgotten when confronted by the leering vampire before him, the former Willow Rosenberg.

"Gee, Spikey…you seemed happy to see me a minute ago. Need Viagra after all?" The redhead stroked his withered crotch, her pink tongue snaking out to lick the rest of Nina's blood from her lips. She placed a hand next to Spike's head on the pier piling, leaning in close to brush her lips near his own, knowing the scent of human blood, fresh and full of sexual hormones, would be painfully enticing to the British vamp.

Regaining some of his perpetual cool, Spike inhaled deeply, the scent of the blood making his head swim and knees weak. Opening his eyes, he fixed a hard stare at Willow. "Not at all, ducks. Me Mate gets up well enough for the right person." He smiled a hard, baleful grin at her. "Not a skanky vamp witch bitch like you." His satisfied grin began to fade into uncertainty as he registered the fact of the other vamps beginning to work their way around and behind him. He turned his gaze back to Willow and felt icy fear crawl up his spine. She did NOT appear to be amused.

Willow's face morphed into her game face, her smoothly curved cheeks and forehead giving way to the ridged angles of her vampire alter ego. She gestured to one of her minions, a lovely young girl of Asian descent, calling her over. The Master vampire whispered into her ear, provoking a smile from the girl. She reached up to stroke Spike's face as Willow whispered to her, then moved behind him, suddenly grasping his arms and pinning his back to the pylon.

Surprisingly, Spike couldn't break free. Even though he was well over 200 years old, this fledgling was easily holding him immobile, effortlessly restraining his best attempt to get loose. His cockiness was nearly gone now, the first tendrils of real fear beginning to creep in. "So," He quipped, his tone flip and easy. "We're going to play a party game, right? I love party games. What are we playing?"

Willow strode over to another pylon and spoke a single word. At her gesture, a metal rod of about 9 inches in length leapt from the wood and into her hand. Another word uttered, and the spike lost its blunt tip, becoming sharper than a tack. She strode back to Spike and called another girl forward. "My friend here is rather creative. Her name is Italia, but we call her Tali for short." Willow handed her the spike. "Spike, you've heard of 'Pin the Tail on the Donkey', right?" She gestured towards the male vampire, and suddenly he was facing the pylon, his hands somehow still held by the Asian girl, his back now to Willow and Tali. "Well, Tali is going to play a little variant of that. She calls it, 'Pin a Tail on the Jackass'." She tangled her fingers into Spike's short hair, pulling his head viciously back to hiss into his ear. "And guess who the Guest of Honor is."

*****************************************************************************************

"Wishes, Tara?"

Buffy stared, her sculpted eyebrows arched skyward with incredulous disbelief. "As in, you make a wish, and it's granted, 'make a wish'?"

Tara smiled and bobbed her head, eager to explain her plan. "Yes, but it can't by itself. We have to actually find the other six balls. See, there are seven in all, and..."

Buffy held up her hand to stop Tara before she rambled too far. "Wait, we have to find six more of these things? Where are they, Tara?"

Tara blinked owlishly, briefly flustered by the Slayer's question. "Well, I have some good clues to most of them, and one of them is already on the way here." She smiled and tilted her head, her trademark "I'm happy" head flip. "I found it on eBay."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "On eBay. What if it's not real?"

Tara patted her arm, reassuring her. "Oh, it's real. I got it from the same pagan we got the Orb of Thessulah from when we re-cursed Angel with his soul." She nodded in satisfaction. "She's legit."

Buffy grimaced. "So, we effectively have two of these things. What about the other five? Where are they?"

Tara's face fell slightly. "Well, I have leads on two. I haven't been able to reach Giles, but I think he could help locate some more."

Downstairs, a knock sounded on the door followed by its opening and admitting two people, Xander and Anya strolling in. Upon seeing the trio of women at the head of the stairs, they began walking up to meet them. "Hi guys!" Xander greeted. "What's up and what is that?"

Anya peered at the ball. "Oh, you have a Dragonball. I have the four-star ball at the shop."

Buffy and Tara stared at her in open-mouthed shock. "You WHAT?!"

Anya drew back. "I said I have one at the shop. I've been using it as a paperweight."

Everyone stared.

Anya looked at them. "What?"

***************************************************************************************

Spike hobbled along the beachfront, his hand behind his back on his bloody jeans, the black denim punctured with numerous holes. Every step he took shot shards of pain from his butt to his feet, rivulets of blood trickling down his legs. Each of the vampire witches at the beach had taken a turn at him, pinning a piece of rope to his body with the metal pin Willow extracted from the pier piling, laughing with glee at the pained expressions each violent piercing produced. At the end, his body weak from pain and blood loss, he'd passed out for the last two. It was Willow, a sharpened piece of driftwood in hand, who had awakened him, shoving the three foot long wood into his chest and narrowly missing his undead heart by a mere centimeter or two. The last image he registered before passing out again was the purest, blackest, most evil grin from the lovely face of the former Willow Rosenberg. That and the paper attached to the stake in his lung.

_"Spike, thank you for the lovely evening.__ The girls and I had a blast with your ass."_

_-__Willow_

It was written in his own blood.

Somehow, Qwerty found the whole thing vastly amusing when he untied Spike and poured whiskey over his wounds. Spike reminded him, teeth gritted in pain, that vampires didn't get infections, but Qwerty merely shrugged and smiled, mumbling something about it being the "thought that counted".

Spike shook his head at the memory and continued hobbling into the sewer entrance, heading below ground and homewards to his crypt.  A furtive glance over his shoulder showed the barest beginnings of orange seeping above the horizon...

**************************************************************************************

Dawn turned away from the kitchen table where Anya was sulking, sullen and morose at giving up her dragon ball. The former vengeance demon had groused mightily at giving up the mystic orb, but did so at her fiancé's insistence. Dawn smiled, remembering Anya's argument from earlier that the orb's use as a paperweight notwithstanding, it was still valuable and its use was just a matter of expediency…until the right buyer came along. Tara and Buffy made sure to thank her profusely, promising payment of some kind for her troubles.

Earlier bargaining aside, the fact remained the Scoobies now had two dragon balls in their possession, and a third ostensibly on the way. Basic arithmetic told Dawn that only four now remained.

"Anya, you've been around longer than any of us. How hard is it to get all 7 balls?"

The young woman lifted her chin from her hands and looked at the Slayer's little sister. "Hard? I remember it happening once about 450 years ago, and the guy that got them took 60 years to find them all. He died making his wish. I think Shen Long scared him to death."

Dawn scrunched up her pixieish face. "Shen Long? What's that?"

"Not what, 'who'." Anya corrected. "Shen Long is a 'who'. A very big, terrifying who. Shen Long is the mystic dragon that appears when you get all 7 balls together for a wish." She shuddered. "Once is enough for my lifetime." She leaned forward to peer into the teens face. "He's as long as a dozen football fields, from his fire breathing snout to his spiked tail. His eyes glow red, and his voice fills the sky from horizon to horizon, shaking buildings and knocking over trees…he's eternal; imbued with the power of a god, he's also very, VERY impatient."

Dawn stared wide-eyed, her mouth hanging open. Anya sat back in smug self-satisfaction, thoroughly pleased at stunning the teen. Her pleasure was short lived however, when Dawn's face abruptly cracked into a huge grin. "COOL!"

****************************************************************************************

Two days later….

Willow Rosenberg walked around the circle of vampires, smiling, touching, and murmuring into the ears of a select few creatures. Finally, she strode to the center of the circle, taking her position at the central focus point, the point that the other foci would soon channel their energy to. At each cardinal point of the compass, a trio of witches sat facing each other in a triangle, hands holding objects of power with eyes closed, chanting low and intently. Quietly, she turned to face the trio to the North. The three witches there were each dressed in robes of black, brown, and dark green. One held a glowing pentagram in her hand; another held a smooth stone, while Aki, the Asian girl from the beach, chanted in a low monotone. Willow nodded in approval and began a chant of her own. 

"Power of the Earth, I entreat thee…grant me strength. Ground me and cause me to grow and prosper."

The earth began to tremble beneath her feet. Slowly she turned, as in a dream, to face the triad at the western cardinal point. The three vampires there were dressed in robes similar to the northern ones, but their colors were somewhat brighter, in shades of blue, green, and grey. The one in green was stirring a viscous liquid in a cauldron, a smoking concoction of crystal clear opacity. With a nod of satisfaction, she stopped stirring and allowed the blue clad vampire to draw some out into a chalice before offering it to Tali, the chanting witch in grey.

"Power of the Water, I beseech thee…grant me flexibility. Flow through me and control my emotions and spirit."

A fine mist began to flow from the trio towards her, enveloping her in a fog. Turning south, she faced the red, orange, and fuchsia clad witches gathered about a crackling fire. This trio was chanting over a long staff and a shorter, intricately carved wand. Nina, the third witch in the triangle, clasped a crystal embedded in the end of each, muttering a counter-chant to the rhythm of the other two.

"Power of Fire, I implore thee…grant me power. Cleanse and purify me of distraction, focusing my will and desire."

Tendrils of flame began to trail from the fire toward Willow, mingling with the mist and surrounding her, bathing her in mystic light. Turning to the last point, she opened her arms and allowed her own robe to fall to the ground, leaving her naked but for the Athame in her hand. The light breeze that whisked through the trees began to build in intensity as the trio to the east increased the strength of their chant, their yellow, white, and pastel robes billowing out from the wind. Rebeka, the leader of the eastern triad, chanted sibilantly, the sword in her partner's hands vibrating as smoke from the two censors held by the third vampire wrapped it in sensuous circles.

"Power of the Air, I pray thee…grant me knowledge. Open my mind and release me from my boundaries!"

As the last words left her mouth, all four points surged in power, the tendrils of flame becoming an inferno, the mist a deluge; the wind became a hurricane and the tremors beneath her feet became an earthquake. Raising her arms to the skies, both hands clutching the Athame, Willow Rosenberg shouted to the roiling clouds above her.

"Powers of Darkness, come to me! Take these sacrifices and release their power! Bend to my will; become my Servant!"

Lightning sliced down from the clouds, striking and instantly consuming the two witches in each triad holding items, the items themselves glowing and arcing with the power surge before sending the power through each of the remaining witches. Each of the four remaining witches vibrated and twitched under the onslaught, yet turned as one to face Willow in the center, the power spilling from them and converging on Willow. As the streams met, the lightning from the sky surged down again, striking with fury down on the raised Athame, coursing down its length and into the arms of the Master vampire and witch. Willow began to smile, and then laugh, eyes dancing with glee and drunk with power. Finally, the electrical lightshow ceased, dropping all five to the ground into smoking heaps. After several moments, Willow rolled over, breathing hard, her eyes solid black orbs now shot through with crackles of blue and gold. Catching her breath, she stayed on her back as the remaining four witches, her closest lieutenants, crawled over to join her, their robes mostly ripped away, hair still smoking. Aki, Tali, Nina, and Rebeka collapsed on and around her, also breathing heavy and taxed to their limits from the incredible event.

Willow nuzzled the two closest to her, Tali and Nina, her exhaustion giving way to arousal. Somehow, for some reason, encounters with power such as she had just experienced made her very, very horny. She pulled both vampires into a wet, tongue battling kiss as Aki and Rebeka began to work on her nipples and belly, their hands running over the bodies of Willows kiss mates.

Willow purred and exclaimed. "Oh, yes….YES."

She giggled, the giggles giving way to full, deep throated laughs punctuated with husky moans...

****************************************************************************************

*_Drums begin playing a primal rhythm in the background…*_

The Slayer came up from her stretch, sinuously and slowly, angling her head and eyeing the heavy bag.

A slow smile began to form on her lips, her eyes dancing with a predatory gleam…

*_A choppy, distorted guitar joins the drums..._

_"Do you feel that..?"….*_

Buffy rolled her head on her neck as the music began to increase in volume. She dropped back, settling into a fighting stance known in Kenpo as a left Forward Bow.

*_Guitar #2 joins in, finally exploding into the beginning of the song*_

The Slayer exploded in time with the song, using a flurry of Kenpo-style assaults and hammering the bag with blows capable of breaking bone and concrete. On the bag's backswing, she nimbly dodged and covered out, allowing it to move past her before brutalizing it with more lethal combinations.

_"Drowning deep in my sea of loathing_

_Broken your servant I kneel_

_It seems what's left of my human side_

_Is slowly changing in me"_

Switching to a style more reminiscent of Krav Maga, she began to increase the brutality of her attacks, blows changing from maiming to those intended to kill.

Unknown to Buffy, a shadow attached itself to the wall out of sight, a lone figure with peroxide blonde hair. Spike watched from the shadows, longing filling his eyes as his Slayer worked out her tensions. _His Slayer…_

_"Looking at my own reflection_

_When suddenly it changes, violently it changes! (Oh no)_

_There is no turning back now_

_You've woken up the demon in me"_

Spike smiled as he recognized the lyrics from Disturbed's "Down with the Sickness". How often had he empathized with those words? Tortured by his feelings for the Slayer, he could well see himself kneeling before her, a broken being in pain. He could think of worse things in his unlife than being a servant to the Slayer. If only SHE would agree.

Meanwhile, Buffy continued to mercilessly beat the bag, working through the rest of that song, then moving on to the rest of her compilation CD. Towards the end, the music slowed to a more methodical beat, the less frantic pace allowing her to be more precise and controlled in her attacks.

_"There's nothing to me now, an empty shell unfolded_

_How, when we learn to pray inside our demons are laughing_

_How long will this go on? Are we a bit much stronger?_

_Do you think you can save me from living this way?_

The eldest Summers methodically worked through several forms, delivering blows to the practice bag and hanging dummies, or _uki, until they were all swinging in mad circles. Taking the opportunity, she switched yet again from methodical to improvisational, applying her acrobatic and gymnastic tumbling skills from cheerleading with her hand to hand skills to continue pummeling the targets._

Spike felt a stirring in his groin as he watched, the fluid movements of the Slayer coupled with her ruthless brutality intoxicating his senses. Absently, he reached down and began to lightly stroke himself through his jeans, his eyes never leaving the subject of his passion and lust. The words of the song merely served to increase his conflicted desires, reminding him just how far out of reach she truly was.

_"I don't know how to love, I just know how to live._

_All I feel is hate…will you forgive me?_

_For all those things I've done, they keep on creeping by me._

_And though we've changed our ways, still all our demons are laughing._

_How long will this go on? Aren't we a bit much stronger?_

_I'd like to think you've come into my life to stay"_

The British vampire grimaced at the lyrics. _Damn her…why did she pick that gobsmacked Godsmack for this CD?? Spike saw way too much of his feelings and life in the lyrics, but couldn't tear himself away from Buffy long enough to leave the pain the words evoked. He may have been a bloody awful poet himself at one time, but words still held a powerful sway upon his psyche. After all, he couldn't say "soul". Whatever it was he had, it wished that night in her bathroom had never happened…_

_"I don't know how to love; I just know how to live._

_All I feel is hate…will you forgive me?_

_I don't know how to breathe with you too far away._

_I don't know how to love…will you forgive me?_

_No, I can't live this way!_

_I don't know how to love; I just know how to live._

_All I feel is pain…will you forgive me?_

_I don't know how to breathe with you too far away._

_I don't know how to love._

_Past lives I've lived, uncontrolled but sacred._

_You've finally seen all that's left of me._

_So hard to see…so hard to breathe…_

_Will you forgive…me?_

**************************************************************************************

Buffy found it difficult to concentrate during her workouts lately. Like right now. She discovered that different styles of music greatly lent themselves to working out, helping her rhythm and flow, but the songs Dawn helped her choose on this latest CD didn't help her mind to clear itself. Instead, she found her mind cluttered with thoughts of Spike. Spike. Why could she NOT forget the vampire? And why, she mused, could she not find a lover that was at least alive?  _Riley was alive, her inner voice chided.  Grimacing, Buffy fired right back.  __"He had a pulse…'alive' is subjective, yes?"_

_First Angel, now Spike…welcome, boys, to the Slayer Hall of Shame! She thought. Another grimace crossed her features as she found her concentration slipping. She inhaled deeply and exercised a control her former Watcher would've been most proud to see. Focusing her mind, she pushed the thoughts of Spike and his body from her mind and moved into several Tai Chi forms, meditating and calming her spirit. Her breath caught as the next song began, but she forged on, determined to not be pulled away. __Pulled away…_

_Spend all your time waiting for that second chance,   
for a break that would make it okay.  
There's always some reason to feel not good enough,   
and it's hard, at the end of the day.  
I need some distraction, Oh, beautiful release.   
Memories seep from my veins.  
Let me be empty, Oh, and weightless, and maybe I'll find some peace tonight._

_In the arms of the angel, fly away from here,   
from this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you feel.  
You are pulled from the wreckage, of your silent reverie.   
You're in the arms of the angel, may you find some comfort here.  
So tired of the straight line, and everywhere you turn,   
there's vultures and thieves at your back.  
The storm keeps on twisting, keep on building the lies   
that you make up for all that you lack.  
Don't make no difference, escape one last time.   
It's easier to believe in this sweet madness,   
Oh, this glorious sadness that brings me to my knees._

It was still hard to be sister, mother and Slayer. So much of her soul seemed empty and unfeeling since she was pulled from the arms of her own angels. Going from that to waking up in a stinking coffin buried beneath six feet of clay and dirt wasn't something high on her list of favorite things. The stench of her own decaying body was so thick in the coffin…her friends couldn't have her embalmed. They might as well have put up a flashing billboard advertising the Slayer was dead. It's amazing how much a body can decompose in three months.

Buffy shuddered at the memory. Spike had understood part of her ordeal; she would never admit that to him, but she appreciated that simple fact. What she REALLY could not say though was that he could NOT understand the entire ordeal. In spite of what he said, he laid in his grave a bare day before clawing his way out…and didn't need to breathe during the process.

Spike.

_Why does it keep coming back to him? The Slayer wondered. As she finished her Tai Chi, the last bars of the Sarah McLachlan song faded out to find her in a lotus position on the floor. Her back erect and eyes closed, she concentrated on her breathing, taking in breaths slowly before releasing them in an even slower manner. She expanded her awareness, focusing her senses the way Giles showed her, using them, channeling them, bringing them into a sharp awareness beyond that of normal everyday living. Finally, her mind fell into a state of perfect serenity and calm she only experienced once before and had striven to achieve again ever since. As her mind cleared, her awareness abruptly exploded; her Slayer sense raced as it fed from the sensory input her human senses channeled it into. Instantly, she became aware of Spike's presence. Absently, she noted that his presence didn't affect her in the slightest.  Smiling, she stood._

"Spike, come here and blindfold me."

The British vampire's spine chilled and short hairs rose on his neck. The Slayer exuded a _presence she never exhibited previously. __Bollocks, how did she know? He stepped forward and picked up the long sash Giles used on her for blind fighting drills. Moving behind her, he felt the preternatural calm and awe filled him; she was __POWERFUL, his Slayer was.  She was aeons beyond what any Slayer before her had ever been. She achieved a new level, and he felt privileged. He was the first to see this new creature, a Slayer like none before. For a fleeting moment, William the Bloody experienced relief that this Slayer no longer wanted him dead. Hell, he didn't even have a smart assed comment ready._

Firmly, he pulled the knot on the sash tight. He stepped back and around to her front, eyeing her quizzically. "What now, pet?"

Buffy smiled again, wonder filling her. Her understanding was so full, so alive, so _aware…she could almost "see" the vampire before her, blindfold notwithstanding._

"Now? Attack me." She made no move, assumed no ready stance.

Spike arched an eyebrow. "Fight you? Luv, you can't fight like that. I've watched your Watcher beat you silly in these drills before, and I'm much tougher than that poof."

Buffy merely smiled. "Attack me." Buffy sat down, resuming her lotus position.

Spike shrugged. "Your funeral." Disdaining further words, he simply shot a lightning fast kick at the Slayer's head, thinking to end the whole farce quickly and decisively. To his utter astonishment, that blond head was no longer there. In fact, the body normally attached to it wasn't there, either.

Off to the side, Buffy was seated in the same lotus position as before, but somehow five yards away and to the side. She merely smiled before softly speaking. "Sure about that?"

_To be continued_


	6. Twists and Turns and Tumbles, Oh My!

**_It All Ends Sometimes...Part 6_**

Disclaimer:  Buffy and all associated characters are the property blah blah blah of Mutant Enemy and Joss Whedon and a bunch of people I've never heard of...in a nutshell, they aren't mine; I'm just playing with them.  And, might I add, I'm not making a red cent off of this...I'm writing this for fun and for others to read for free entertainment.  And if I make a mistake with anything Wicca, no offense is intended.

Author note:  Yeah, yeah…it's been ages.  Without boring you with the details, my life is busy.  Get over it.  On the other hand, if you're still following along after all this, I'm glad!  Please review and recommend this, and the inspiration to write might occur more often.

On to the fic…

Far away and high above, unseen and hidden from most mortal eyes amongst full and feathered clouds, an ancient palace hovered.  It existed now and had existed for thousands of years; in fact, it was soon to mark its 300th millennium of existence.  During its fabled time it saw some terrific and historic events.  Remarkably, it survived them all.  Once, nearly fifty thousand years ago, it was almost utterly destroyed by a battle between two fused young warriors and their nearly invincible foe.  At that time it was under the care of the current master's progenitor.  In fact, the current Lord was only the third in history to reside in this palace and watch over the Earth.  It, for it was without gender, was the Earth's Guardian, and her Guardian was very intently watching the ridiculous battle between a vampire and one of the world's last hopes.

Paosh's eyes narrowed.  It possessed an intense interest in the young woman it observed far below; after all, she was the culmination of over ten thousand years worth of genetic, mystical, and arcane manipulation.

_Yes, it thought, its antennae twitching in excitement.  __She may be The One…_

**************************************************************************************************************************

_Sure about that?_

Those three words normally don't carry much threat…certainly, not enough to cause a shiver of fear to course down the spine of a Master vampire or give that same Master pause.

Normally.

Right about now, normal was an alien concept…as alien as the blonde young woman sitting cross-legged on the floor.  Spike closed his mouth, his eyes narrowed in disbelief.  _Bollocks…how did she…?!  The vampire crossed his arms and stared, unable to understand what just happened.  First, Buffy worked out and found some…thing inside of her that put her in a preternaturally calm state.  Then, in a move that thoroughly surprised the vampire, she actually asked him to first blindfold and then attack her.  At first he didn't want to, but something about her poise convinced him, and so he did.  Much to his amazement, the kick he thought to end it all with not only didn't connect, it seemed he fired it in entirely the wrong direction, unless his eyes deceived him.  After all, the air around Buffy's body seemed to be slightly shimmering.  Yes, that was it.  It was a trick; an illusion._

Spike kept his arms crossed.  "So.  You know how to do some kind of illusion now, right?  I see now…make Ol' Spike look like a bloody wanker by tricking him, eh?"

Buffy merely sat, eyeing him curiously, as though for the first time with brand new eyes, knowing what it is she saw, yet not recognizing it.  She frowned.  "No."

He hesitated.  "'No'?  That's it?  Just 'no'?  C'mon pet, I know something's going on here.  What did you just do?"

Buffy smiled.  "Now Spike, you still haven't attacked me," she chided.  "That slow-assed kick wasn't an attack.  No answers for Spikey until he gives Buffy a good, sound workout."  She stood and beckoned to him.  "C'mon Big Bad…let's see what you got.  Don't hold back on me now; in fact, why don't you let your demon out to play?"  She replaced her smirk with an innocent smile and just stood there, her hands at her side, loose, ready.

Spike snarled and lunged, his human face morphing into that of his demon alter ego, his speed and power increasing with the change.  To the human eye, the vampire would appear as a blur, his movements blindingly fast, impacting and rendering devastating damage faster than the eye could blink; quicker than the mind could register he had moved.  With every erg of energy, and every bit of speed, William the Bloody threw a punch at the Slayer.

Buffy yawned.  Idly, almost lazily, she tilted her head to the side, allowing the punch to slip past.  In much the same instant, she stepped to the outside of the punch, spun, and landed a snapping, open back-hand to the back of Spike's skull.  Coupled with his forward momentum, the smack threw him face first into the wall.  Snarling in a red rage, Spike pushed off of the wall and spun about, launching into another attack…to find Buffy staring at her hand, incredulity spread across her features.  It was then Spike realized he was bleeding from his nose and mouth…it was then he felt the pain of the broken bones in his face.  It was then he knew.  _I.__ Am. SO. Dead._

*******************************************************************************************************************

Buffy stared at her hand, awe and uncertainty staining her features.  _I barely touched him...how…?  Slowly, she lifted her eyes up to meet those of Spike, stunned to see him barely standing upright, blood running from his nose, mouth and…ears?  Dumbfounded, she stared back at her hand.  __How…?_

Spike looked as though he had been blindsided by a train.  He reached behind his head and winced, his hand coming back stained red.  He opened his mouth to say something, but his body betrayed him, his eyes rolling up into his head, his knees giving way, falling bonelessly to the _tatami in the basement __dojo._

Buffy made to walk to him, and stopped with a start as a voice behind her spoke.

"Not bad for a beginner."

*************************************************************************************************************************

_I'm almost home—I'm almost home—I'm almost…_

"Going somewhere, Amy?"

The brown-haired girl stopped dead in her tracks, her breath frozen in her lungs, heart hammering in her throat.  Cold, icy fingers trailed up her spine to the back of her neck—and with a sudden increase in terror she realized those fingers were real.

"Now Amy—it's not nice to leave people waiting when they ask a question, y'know?"

Amy Madison turned to face the source of the mocking voice, her mind emptying of the spells she considered using, the words dying unchanted on her lips.

"Willow, hi!  I've not seen you in so long…how've you been?"  Nervously, she attempted a smile, the cheer in her words not quite reaching her voice as the cold fingers on her neck massaged her fear in deeper and deeper.

The red-head smiled faintly, her grip tightening on her quarry's neck.  "Oh, I've been dead.  You?"

Amy barely had time to draw in a breath to answer before Willow's whispered "_Requiescat en Somnus" caused her to lose consciousness._

*************************************************************************************************************************

Buffy spun towards the unexpected voice.  There before her stood a green demon—a BIG, green demon, to be exact.  It stood somewhere around seven feet tall, broad shouldered and built; it wore some kind of white outfit, belted at the waist with a purple sash, and covered overall by a brown, thigh length vest.  He carried a gnarled, brown staff that had an odd, "T"-shaped head.  He leaned on the staff…seemingly more out of casual indifference than infirmity.  Atop its head were two antennas, each above a heavily ridged brow that framed piercing, purple hued eyes.  Bald, each side of its head bore elongated, pointy ears.

"Not bad indeed."  It repeated, eyes narrowing with undisguised interest.  "However, nowhere near good enough."

Buffy eyed the strange, new arrival, slowly backing towards Spike's inert form before stealing a glance down to check the vampire.  _He's not breathing, she thought.  Grimacing, she realized the idiocy of that thought and she mentally berated herself, __Of course he's not breathing…DUH, vampire…?_

"Oh, don't worry about your friend there.  He'll live."  The being arched an eyebrow and chuckled in amusement.  "Well, sort of.  After all, he is dead already."

Buffy crossed her arms and stared at the newcomer.  "Ok…and why exactly should I believe you, Mr. Spock?"

Briefly, a blank look crossed the being's face, quickly clearing away into recognition of the name before dissolving into mirth.  "Oh, yes, I remember now…Spock…heh heh…yes, very funny indeed."  He gathered himself together and pulled himself to his full height.  "All humor aside, Ms. Summers, you and I need to speak."  He inhaled and exhaled deeply before gravely pronouncing, "You see, you're the Chosen One."  It smiled, waiting to see the effect this momentous news would have on Buffy.

The Slayer shifted position, moving her weight to her other foot and arching a single, sculpted eyebrow, head tilting to the side before sarcastically riposting, "Hello?  This is news?"

*************************************************************************************************************************

*_I've got a loverly bunch of coconuts--*_

_Bugger off…_

_*There they are a-standing in a row--*_

_Ow._

_*Big ones, small ones, some as big as your 'ead!*_

_Speaking of 'eads….did I say 'Ow' already…?_

_*'Give 'em a twist, a flick of the wrist', is what the showman said!*_

_Danny Boy, you blighter, PLEASE twist off my 'ead…Ow?  Ow._

Spike considered opening his eyes, but his body rebelled—in fact, the very act of attempting to think caused such brilliant pain he hastily apologized for his sin of musing and blissfully, and thankfully, fell back into the black swirling depths of oblivion.

*************************************************************************************************************************

Amy Madison prayed to her Goddess for blissful, black oblivion.

Some hours ago she awakened to find her tongue numbed and immobile.  At first, she thought it was to keep her quiet, but she quickly learned that her captors didn't care a whit for her silence; they just wanted her unable to verbalize an incantation.  Screams were perfectly acceptable, as they so expertly demonstrated—it was speech they had an issue with.  Indeed, they seemed pleased with the louder screams she produced.  They also seemed pleased with unique ones, screams that didn't just belt out but either warbled, wailed, or contained some other form of punctuation.

And then there was the humiliation.

It wasn't bad enough that Willow had stripped her down to her skin for the torture.  Oh, no.  She and the other four vampires took every opportunity to sexually molest her amidst the pain they inflicted, cutting and biting her breasts and genitalia, drawing blood, and then licking and sucking it off, delighting in the chagrin and humiliation it caused her.  As it now stood, thanks to their teeth and razor sharp claws, her entire body was a mass of incised and seeping symbols, each inch screaming in agony from the thousands of insults the whole had endured.  Amy tried to keep her eyes closed, as that helped her to attempt to lose herself in her "Secret Place", the place where she was always safe and happy.  It didn't last long though.

At one point, Willow pouted and seemed put out that Amy kept her eyes closed and refused to watch.  She must have suspected Amy was hiding from the pain in that fashion.  Her solution to that had been to slice off Amy's eyelids and pull her eyes from their sockets, magically mounting them before her body so she had no choice but to watch every second of the events.

Willow snickered.  The screams were much richer now—in fact, she didn't know which sound she liked more—the crunching sound of Aki and Rebeka biting off Amy's toes and fingers one by one or the screams.

**********************************************************************************************************************

The creature blinked, staring at Buffy in confusion.

"Ah, yes, of course you are."  It smiled.  "However, I meant more so than your own knowledge and past would indicate."

Buffy rolled her eyes.  "Oh, ok, let me guess—because of this tremendous destiny I have of being yet somebody else's 'Chosen One', I must now follow you, do exactly as you say, or vile horrible things will befall me and the rest of the human race.  However, if I do as you say then everyone will be spared, great evil will be defeated, and etc, etc.  How am I doing so far?"

The green being stared, agape.  "Yes!  Exactly!  How did you know?"

A harsh sigh exploded from Buffy's lips as her head dropped and her chin bounced on her chest, eyes closed in disbelief.  "Oh good grief, here we go again…"

"Look, I'm kinda busy at the moment and I really need to check on Spike and get him some blood, so if you don't mind making this some other time--?"

Buffy turned and stooped over Spike's inert form.  "Spike, hey, can you hear me?  C'mon Spike, I didn't hit you THAT hard, did I?"

Buffy sensed motion behind her and turned her head to see the demon moving closer, its staff held loosely in its hand.  "That's close enough, Mister."

"Paosh."

"What?"

"I said, 'Paosh'.  That's my name"

Her eyes narrowed.  "I wasn't asking."

It shrugged.  "Manners aren't out of vogue."  A single eyebrow arched.  "I can help him, if you let me."

"How?"

"I can heal his injury."  It snapped its fingers.  "Like that."

Buffy eyed him warily and stood.  "Just like that," she said, snapping her fingers as well, a sharp, sonic imitation of his action.

"Just like that." It softly said.  It gestured towards the fallen vampire, its manner and face in a classic "may I?" posture.  Buffy studied it briefly, considering; she really had no reason to trust this creature, yet if it actually could help…

Buffy nodded sharply then stood and stepped back.  Cautiously, she stood nearby, hands at her side, loose and ready; she had no warning from her Slayer senses, yet she didn't continue living as long as she had by being careless.  Trust came much harder to her now.  She reflected ruefully that a time existed in her not too distant past where that wasn't the case.  Grimacing, her lips drew tighter together into a hard line—_Everything__ changes…_

Focusing on the scene below her, her eyes centered with interest on the muttering green humanoid kneeling by her…what?  What was Spike to her?  He wasn't an enemy, not any longer, and he certainly wasn't a very familial sort.  So—what?

"Bloody Hell!"

Buffy started, her attention sharply snapping back to the actions of the creature at Spike's side.  A very satisfied smile creased its features as it pulled back from the vampire who, a startled look of amazement on his own visage, was busily examining the back of his head with his hands.

"You ok?"

Spike looked to Buffy, mouth working soundlessly.  "Uh, yeah, I think so.  Although I wasn't."  He turned his ice-blue eyes to the creature.  "Thanks."

Paosh stood and nodded in the affirmative to Spike.  Buffy noted with interest that it leaned heavily on its staff, as though the act of the healing had taken great energy from it.  "You're welcome, William."

At the mention of his human name, Spike's eyes iced over, his face darkening dangerously at the familiarity.  Paosh continued.

"I know your name, William Longstreet…your name and everything about you; you and Ms. Summers here as well."  It turned to Buffy and politely asked, "May I explain, Ms. Summers?"

"Slayer, you know this git?"

Buffy shook her head, still regarding the creature with a mixture of curiosity and interest mingled with a dash of healthy suspicion thrown in.  "I've never seen him before five minutes ago."  Her eyes narrowed.  "Although, he certainly seems to know us, doesn't he?"

Paosh smiled gently.  "Only by reputation and observation, I assure you."

At this both Buffy and Spike narrowed their eyes.  "Observation?"  Buffy leaned in menacingly

Paosh hastily amended the statement—his senses keenly noted the abrupt shift in power as the Slayer's _chi briefly flared.  "Very indirect observation, really!  I've not watched you except from my observatory and palace in the course of my duties.  Honestly, from there I can observe everyone on the planet.  After all, I am Earth's Guardian."  It smiled.  "It's my duty."_

Spike and Buffy responded with the first clear, intelligible thing they could think of.

"HuhWha-?"

**********************************************************************************************************************

"Bored now."

Willow idly traced the tip of her finger across her canvas, her paint smearing wet and thick as it cooled, the delicious coppery scent of earlier dying away to a lifeless odor.  _Whoever said artists put their life's blood into their work was wrong, Willow mused.  __It's much better when you use someone else's._

Giggling, she turned to the lush sofa in the corner of the opulent room. Fitted wall to wall with leather furniture, the room boasted thick, luxuriant shag carpeting that worshipped the feet and caressed the sole, but ended short of the fireplace.  In the room's center, an open fireplace gave heat and light to the medieval feel of the space, casting haunted shadows about the heavy oak furnishings, fiery reflections softly glinting from the leather coverings—and eerie, glowing gold reflections from the eyes of the two vampires on the sofa.

It somewhat annoyed Willow that Tali and Nina had taken such a liking to each other.  In fact, they preferred each other's company over time with her.  As their Sire, this rankled Willow to no end, but she knew their devotion to her was complete—they would follow any command without hesitation.  Under most circumstances.

"Tali."

The dark haired vampire in question growled low in her throat, barely pausing in her wet, tongue-dueling kiss with Nina.  Partially atop her, Tali had one hand firmly caressing the smaller vampire's inner thigh and the other tangled in her long, thick hair, fingers twirling the soft tresses into whirlpools of silk.  In short, she didn't give a damn what Willow wanted right about then.

"Tali and Nina!"

Breathing hard, both vampires reluctantly pulled away from the scalding kiss they were in to turn their golden eyes to Willow, the growl in Tali's throat echoed by the purr in Nina's.  "Yes, Mistress?"

Willow glided across the floor, her demon face sliding into place as she sidled next to the pair.  Cooing, her hands slipped sensuously up their sides and backs, stroking their skin and drawing out moans of appreciation—then tangling hard in their hair, pulling down and back, baring their throats to her fangs and immediately evoking submission from them.  "It's not nice to ignore mother, is it ladies?"  Using their hair, she turned their heads to look at the figure lying still and cold near the fireplace.  "I have a little job for you—" She smiled and rubbed her cheek against Tali's.  "I think you'll have a blast."

***********************************************************************************************************************

"So, let me get this straight and in a nutshell:  I'm actually the long distant descendant of some aliens from another planet, right?"

Buffy sipped her hot chocolate while staring at the alien—NOT a demon, she reminded herself—across the rim of her cup.  "Why come to me and why now?"

Paosh set down the cup of water it held before answering, its face troubled and tired.  It took a deep breath and began.

"Long ago, your Saiya-jin ancestors were slightly different.  They actually had tails when they were born, and kept them into adulthood.  That tail was crucial to their development, and key to their greatest innate power, the Oozaru transformation.  With their tail, a Saiya-jin, under the correct conditions, could transform into a giant ape-like creature.  Their power multiplied tremendously, almost exponentially.  Unfortunately, unless a Saiya-jin had proper training, they had no conscious control in this form, and were uncontrollable beasts.  It was for this reason the Earth's first moon was destroyed."

As one, Buffy, Spike and Dawn all choked on their respective mouthfuls of drinks and/or snack foods.

"Destroyed?!"

"FIRST moon?!"

"I'm going to get a tail?!"

Paosh smiled wanly.  "Ah—no.  However, your children might.  You see, you're the culmination of thousands upon thousands of years of genetic and mystical manipulation.  As I already mentioned, since before time began as you know it, there was a species of beings that lived here on this planet, of which they were the last of their kind."  Pointedly, it raised an eyebrow and inclined its head, pinning her with a steady gaze.  "Exceptionally POWERFUL beings, I might add.  They married and mingled with Earth creatures and produced offspring…"  Its grin grew even more.  "The very first Saiya-jin to be on Earth was a lad, a mere infant, named Kakkarot.  An elderly man found his pod, a man by the name of Son Gohan, who then gave him the name he went by his entire life, Goku.  His adventures were legend before the planet was wiped out the last time.  He lost his own tail several times, but it kept growing back until he reached his adult growth.  His sons, Gohan and Goten, all had tails at birth.  His arch-rival Vegeta had his tail until Yajirobe cut it off, and Vegeta's children, Bra and Trunks, had tails.  Of course, by this time the adults understood the transformation and its cause and the children's tails were cut off repeatedly until they stopped growing back."  It paused at this point.  "Strangely enough, the third generation of Saiya-jin was born without tails."

It shrugged.  "Really, it's immaterial.  The point I'm getting at is this:  You are very close to what your ancestors were then; in fact, you're as close I could get you to a Saiya-jin without a tail."  It pulled back with a thoughtful look on its face.  "Now, it seems you've breached a plateau in your training and it's time for me to step in."

"It's time," it said, "for you to learn the techniques you need to achieve the level of the legendary—it's time for you to learn all you need to be a Super Saiya-jin."

Author Note:  I know, I know.  It's been ages since I updated, and to be honest, this story has taken some turns I hadn't anticipated when I started.  Plot bunnies galore.


	7. Thank Goddess for eBay

**_It All Ends Sometimes...Part 7_**

Disclaimer:  Buffy and all associated characters are the property blah blah blah of Mutant Enemy and Joss Whedon and a bunch of people I've never heard of...in a nutshell, they aren't mine; I'm just playing with them.  And, might I add, I'm not making a red cent off of this...I'm writing this for fun and for others to read for free entertainment.  And if I make a mistake with anything Wicca, no offense is intended.

Author note:  Yeah, yeah…it's been ages.  Without boring you with the details, my life is busy.  Get over it.  On the other hand, if you're still following along after all this, I'm glad!  Please review and recommend this, and the inspiration to write might occur more often.

On to the fic…

"Ok, so let me get this straight: You want me to leave Sunnydale for an entire year to 'train' with you someplace, leave my friends and family, and let Willow and her crew run rampant in Sunnydale while said friends and family hunt for the dragonballs, entirely at her mercy?"

Buffy still couldn't believe the events of the last few hours.  What started as an ordinary run of the mill training session at the Magic Box _dojo turned into a world upheaving, mind twisting tale.  This green—guy—showed up as she was kicking Spike's ass and healed him from a brain damaging head injury she inflicted, told them this tale of her being a genetically and magically manipulated girl descended from aliens, and then informed them he'd been alive for thousands of years—all in the space of an hour.  And, to top it all off, seemed puzzled by her disbelief of it all.  Go figure.  The only reason she DID believe any of it was due to the fact she'd seen some really strange crap in her years as a Slayer, and it all made a certain sort of sense…sort of._

"No Buffy—and yes."  The Slayer's eyes narrowed in frustration.  Paosh sighed.  This was harder than it had thought it would be.  "For you it will be a full year in the Room of Space and Time.  Here, your friends will have you gone for merely a day.  You see, the Room of Space and Time runs in a separate dimension.  In fact, it IS a dimension all to itself—and it runs at a separate time also.  While a day runs here, 365 of your days run there.  So, while your friends go about one day of their lives, and get a few messages sent and leads begun on the dragonballs, you'll have an entire year of training, developing the skills and knowledge necessary to control the strength you've begun to tap."

Paosh paused.  "Also, even more importantly, you'll learn how to _sense the energy of others.  Friends, enemies—it doesn't matter.  You can track them by it, gauge their health and strength by it, and even manipulate your own in order to call forth even more power."  Here it smiled slyly.  "You'll even be able to fly."_

Dawn's eyes grew wide at this news.  "Buffy will be able to _FLY?!  Oh, COOL!"_

Buffy rolled her eyes.

*************************************************************************************************

Willow rolled her eyes.

Well, not HER eyes, but the eyes of the body that Nina and Tali just left with.  It left such a mess, too.

Tiring of her game with the orbs, she tossed them into the fireplace, grinning as the heat caused them to explode.  Now that she felt much cheerier, she turned her attention to the bookcase, pulling down a journal bound in _nyarla__ demon hide and latched with a claw and eye clasp.  Oddly, the eye looked just like a _nyarla_ demons and the claw WAS a claw from one.  She opened it and began to read, but another vampire eased into the room, silently catching her attention.  Aki came up behind Willow, leaned down and whispered in her ear, her tongue snaking around the redhead's ear lobe._

"WHAT did you say?"

The Asian merely shrugged and replied.  "Just what I said.  The Slayer and your ex are planning some kind of thing to bring you back to normal.  Something to do with balls."

Willow's eyes narrowed and blackened, the color disappearing entirely.  Her face morphed into her game face and flecks of gold danced in the obsidian depths.  "Balls, huh?  I'll fix their balls—that's for damn sure."

*******************************************************************************************************

Chip's balls itched.  After spending so much time driving that damn UPS truck around without air-conditioning in the Sunnydale, California heat, it came as no surprise.  What made it worse, the package he carried required him to carry his clipboard in his free hand—so he used the edge of the clipboard to scratch.  It helped, but not as good as direct intervention.  He shook his head.  _I'll knock one more time_, he thought.

The door opened with his hand raised to knock for the third time.  He took in the view before him and he immediately forgot about his itch.  In fact, it immediately turned to interest in something else entirely as he saw the honey-blonde haired young woman standing there.  Hair tousled and eyes heavy lidded, her appearance indicated his knock roused her from her bed.  Her clothes supported this theory, as she wore flannel pajama pants and a tank top, covered overall with a robe.  Her feet, which were bare, showed toenails painted a girly pink.  Chip knew he was in love.  Well, ok, he was in lust.  But love might come later.

Tara blinked owlishly at the cute guy on the porch.  Several things registered in her mind, in increasing clarity: _Ok, a guy…somewhat cute for a guy…guy in shorts…brown shorts…brown truck at curb…holding package…_

PACKAGE!!

She instantly became completely awake.  "It's here!  Buffy, it's here!  The ball's here!"

Chip arched an eyebrow.  _Ball?_  Tara excitedly pulled the package out of Chip's hands, thanking him profusely as he steadied the electronic clipboard for her to sign.  She smiled warmly at him, her eyes bright and cheerful.  The light in those eyes shone from pure joy, and he figured now was as good a time as any.

"Hi, I'm Chip."

Tara smiled good naturedly.  "Hi.  Tara."

He gave his best smile and turned on his considerable charisma.  After all, he was voted Most Charming his senior year.  "I normally don't do this, but I must say, you're one of the most lovely people I've ever seen."

She dimpled.  "You're sweet..."

Chip's shorts began to tighten.  _Oh yeah, she's interested…nice and slow, Chipster…_

"…but I'm gay."  She finished.

Chip's smile froze.  His shorts loosened.  The sounds of something crashing and burning echoed loudly in the back of his mind.

"Right!  That's…cool!  Yeah…cool!  Well, have a nice gay then!"  His eyelids scrunched up into tight knots as the Freudian slip escaped.

Tara giggled and shut the door.

Chip, smile still frozen on his face, turned and strolled back to his truck.  _Yep,_ he thought sadly to himself, _it's going to be one of those daze…_

**********************************************************************************************************

Buffy stumbled groggily down the stairs, rubbing her eyes.  Her patrol last night had been fairly uneventful, but she stayed out later than she intended, constantly turning over Paosh's words in her mind.  Sadly, not a single vamp volunteered to become dust for her, to help her get her adrenaline pumping.  She found she thought most clearly at those times, but those times of distraction just didn't happen.  Now, it seems Tara had something she felt was worth waking her up for.

Buffy had suggested that she move to Revello Drive for the time being until things with Willow settled.  If all of the eggs were in one basket, they would be easier for the Slayer to watch, after all.  After all, Willow's room had been unoccupied as of late.

"Whatcha got, Tara?"

"Look, the 7-star ball is here!"  Tara busily tore at the wrapping of the box, paper flying in all directions as her hands ripped it to shreds.  Buffy watched and thought, _Wonder what she's like at Christmas…_  Tara pulled open the box top and looked at Buffy.

"Well, now we see if it's real."  She stood with the box and unceremoniously turned it upside down and dumped the contents onto the floor.  A golden yellow ball fell out, surrounded by plastic peanuts.  It hit the floor and the sound it made caused Buffy to arch a single sculpted eyebrow.  _Well, it SOUNDS_ _the same._  Tara picked up a note that had nestled in the packing.

            _"In case you were wondering, the packing isn't to protect the orb.  As near as I can tell the thing is indestructible—I just needed something to keep it from banging around." –Lethe_

Tara smiled.  Three down, four to go—they had the 7-star ball.

*************************************************************************************************************

Willow prowled up and down the floor, mumbling _sotto voce_ as she turned her information over in her mind, her steps distracted and obsessed.  _Balls…balls…why does that sound so—_

_*GASP*_

"They can't be—"

She turned on her heel and shouted, "Rebeka!  Get in here, now!"

Without waiting for an answer, she booted her computer and opened her browser, eyes narrowed in concentration.  Fingers dancing, she typed in a search word and waited impatiently for 3 seconds for the results to pop up.  Her eyes widened and she quickly typed in the URL to a website and did a search there.  The words she found caused her to stop, her senses reeling and numbed.  "Bidding is closed for this item", it said.  Directly beneath the yellow bordered box in blue letters was the auction's winning buyer—and her lips curled in fury.

_WilsWitch._

Rebeka careened into the room, her eyes wide, clothes disheveled.

"She's so dead."

"Who's dead, Willow?"

"Tara.  Tara's going to die.  I've put it off, waiting for just the right time to kill and turn her, but that time is now."  Willow turned to face her childe.  "We're going to rain on her little parade, crash her party, and otherwise ruin her day."

She turned back to the computer.  "I found what 'balls' they're talking about."

Rebeka frowned.  "What, the balls that Aki told you about yesterday?"  The raven haired vampire frowned.  "What are they then?"

Willow smiled.  "They're called 'Dragonballs' darling, and if we play our cards right, they just might be our victory's keystone instead of the key to our defeat."

*********************************************************************************************

Author's Note:  Yeah, short chapter.  Work is wild these days.  Note to self:  Next time a big corporation wants to buy your company, make sure they don't fire your boss…


End file.
